If you’ve had the privilege of experiencing a night of daylight, it’ll be no news to you how magical it is. That first summer in the far north my mother lined our bedroom windows with foil in an attempt to make a night’s sleep possible… on the days we didn’t lose track of time that is. One such night I and my brothers were out playing in front of the house in the dirt street, a new friend and I immersed in countless games of hopscotch on a court scratched into the ground, with my dad working on some fix it project around the house, my mom most likely reading or baking. Until a cry rang out from the rickety front porch, “Kids! It’s 2 o’clock in the morning! We have to get to bed!” Oh noooo, really? Why?! Why do we have to go to bed, we’re not tired! “But you will be tomorrow, come on, hurry up, time to get some sleep!” And so we did.
Some of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen have been on just such a night in the far north. Walking down to the sea to watch the horizon as the sun began its tease, slightly grazing the far off horizon in what appeared to be a sunset, preparing to sink into the sea marking the end of the day. Isn’t that what is always does? Oh but wait, wait a few moments and instead of fading away to the other side it would begin to rise again, never fully disappearing. The slight dusk of sunset lingered for a brief moment before the sky slowly lightened once more, the sky never seeing darkness. This was the magic of those endless summer nights, and I adored its wonder and the playful spirit it brought to the season.
The difficulty was what followed in winter, the exact opposite. Now that was something hard to deal with. Cabin fever, it’s a real thing – with consequences.